


Find My Way Back

by SMITSJUSTAJAYREALLY



Series: Good Omens Multi-verse [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe Human Kinda, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Found Family, I though HOLY was finished but looks like we get one more, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Remembered past life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:34:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29122740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SMITSJUSTAJAYREALLY/pseuds/SMITSJUSTAJAYREALLY
Summary: Aziraphale has a dream that causes him to worry. He'd had the dream once before at the beginning of time. It seems Crowley has had the dream repeatedly for millennia.A HOLY Series one shot, because DarknessAndFyre put ideas in my head.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens Multi-verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2136546
Comments: 22
Kudos: 21





	Find My Way Back

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DarknessAndFyre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarknessAndFyre/gifts).



> So, when I finished HOLY, the amazing DarknessAndFyre said she wanted the end of HOLY to be the beginning of the GO cannon universe. And that has stuck with me.
> 
> The title of this one shot is an Eric Arjes song
> 
> I'm not feeling well and if this reads badly tell me and I'll delete it, but this came to me instead of that last chapter I need to finish of Slice lol

Crowley stands, looking out the large window of his plant room and drinking his fifth cup of coffee when his phone begins to ring. He swaggers into the next room, anticipating how his angel would like for the two of them to spend their afternoon.

“Lo’ Angel. What have you planned for us today?” Crowley tries his best attempt at a sexy purr into the receiver.

“What’s wrong with your voice?” Aziraphale sounds more concerned than enticed. “It sounds a bit rough dear. Oh, I do hope you’re not getting ill!”

“I’m a demon, Aziraphale.” Crowley sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I can’t get ill.”

“Not with human diseases, no.” Aziraphale frets through the lines of the device and Crowley can picture the way he is very likely fidgeting with worry. “But if our former employers were to ever convince Pestilence to come fully out of retirement, we both know he could come up with something to take out a celestial or infernal being.”

“I’m not sick.” _I’m trying to seduce you, you daft, brilliant, beautiful, bastard._ “And up for anything you might have planned for us today.”

“If you’re certain.” Aziraphale _does not_ sound certain.

“Yes, dammit, Angel, I’m certain.” Crowley hides the ever-growing disappointment behind a wall of annoyance. He thought after 6000 years and surviving Armageddon, Aziraphale would have shown some sign of reciprocation of Crowley’s feelings. Either Aziraphale is finding the least in-your-face way to decline Crowley’s advances, or the angel truly is clueless when it comes to deciphering social cues. And Crowley isn’t brave enough to be more forward and find out. Even with the taunting dreams he's had for millennia

“Well, you need not be so testy dear.” Aziraphale huffs. “I was concerned for your well-being. So sorry I dare to care about you.”

_Care about me?_ Crowley freezes up momentarily but pushes himself to process and respond appropriately before Aziraphale has time to second-guess and take back what he has just said. “No, I’m sorry Angel. I appreciate your concern, because if you didn’t give a shit about me, then no one would.”

The silence hangs heavy for a long enough span that Crowley fears Aziraphale may have hung up. But just as the demon is about to hang up and dial the angel back, Aziraphale speaks. “Would you like to meet me in the park for a stroll?”

“I’d love to.” Crowley sighs, relieved that he gets yet another day to spend by the angel’s side. Since they’d averted the end and the Arrangement was no longer needed, he wondered how many more he’d get before Aziraphale got sick of him. “When would you like me there?”

“I need time to rush off a few stray customers and lock up. Could you pick me up in thirty?”

“I’ll be there.”

* * *

Aziraphale hurries out of the shop and is quick to lock the door behind him as the Bentley parks in it’s usual place out front. He wants to make certain his demon is feeling well and not bluffing him on the matter.

Crowley exits the vehicle and has stepped around it to open Aziraphale’s door just as the angel finishes crossing the street to meet him. Rather than immediately scooting into the bench seat, Aziraphale first presses his left hand to the right side of Crowley’s face and his right wrist to the demon’s forehead.

“Uh, hi?” Crowley’s left eyebrow curves high above the rim of his shades and he becomes almost stone still. Only his mouth and that eyebrow moving while Aziraphale’s hands are on him. “Alright, Angel?”

“You don’t feel to be running a fever.” Acting on instinct instead of rational thought, Aziraphale moves his right hand from Crowley’s forehead to the back of the demon’s neck and pulls his friends face forward until Aziraphale’s lips are pressed against Crowley’s brow.

“Ngk.” Crowley holds his hands out to the side, his palms open wide. His Valentino shades have slipped down his nose and when Aziraphale pulls back he can see the demon’s eyes are wide, blown yellow and solely focused on Aziraphale’s shoes. “Angel?”

“Oh, oh Crowley, I’m so sorry.” Aziraphale stammers, feeling his face heating from embarrassment. “I hear that is the easiest way to detect a fever without the use of a thermometer.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right.” Crowley blinks, straightens his glasses and composes himself as he waits for Aziraphale to settle on the Bentley’s seat and then closes the door behind him. Circling around the car, he slides behind the steering column and pulls the car into Soho traffic. “I remember that from raising Warlock. But I promise you, Aziraphale I’m fine.”

“I allowed myself to sleep yesterday evening and I had a dream about you last night.” Aziraphale glances to his best friend from the corner of his eye and then back to his hands folded in his lap.

“I’m going to guess from your strange behaviour, it wasn’t a good dream.” Crowley’s mouth turns down at the corners and lines crease across is brow.

“Well parts of it were good, other parts were horrible and all of it was just so fantastic and seemed so real. It _did_ end with both of us passing away.” Aziraphale debates on how much information to give. How do you tell your best friend, that you’ve been pining after for centuries, you had a dream in which the two of you were human, married and had a family together? “The strangest thing is, I had the exact same dream a few millennia ago and it made less sense then than it does now.”

Crowley parks the Bentley within walking distance of St. James Park and the duo begin their walk. Neither of them speak until they approach the path running alongside the duck pond. It’s Crowley who breaks the silence. “When was the first time you had the dream?”

“In the beginning. Not earth’s but my own.” Aziraphale chuckles and fiddles with his hands. “It was as if I awoke from that reality and into the one I’ve known for the past 8000 years of my existence. I forgot about it until the entire dream reoccurred last night.”

“But you said you dreamt of me?” Crowley slips his shades from his face and places them in his jacket pocket. He stops and leans against the metal fencing. “How could you dream about me before you met me?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, dear boy.” Aziraphale tugs at the bottom of his waistcoat, regretting bringing this up but knowing he had to give Crowley some excuse for his overly touchy uneasiness in regards too the demon’s well-being.

“Were we..” Crowley’s sentence trails off as the redhead seems to fight a brief battle within himself. Squeezing his eyes shut, he takes in a deep inhale of breath and on the release opens his eyes again. “Were we human? Married?”

“How?” It takes Aziraphale several seconds to collect himself enough to respond intelligently. “Crowley, how did you know that?”

“Had the same dream, right before I woke up in Heaven too.” The demon turns his head to look at his fingers where they pick at some loose paint on the metal fence post. “And again before they sent me to Eden. Honestly anytime I've ever slept for more than an hour or two, I slip back into parts of it.”

“Is that why you want to keep in such close contact with Adam and Warlock?” Aziraphale bites his lip and places his hand on Crowley’s arm.

“Because in the dreams, they were ours? Yeah, Angel.” Crowley’s breathing becomes shaky and Aziraphale can see the tears welling in his eyes. “I didn’t recognize Adam at first. Thank Someone you didn’t shoot him. I’d have never forgiven myself for that.”

“Oh, my darling.” Aziraphale’s heart breaks and he pulls Crowley into his arms, the both of them sobbing together. “Do you love me here and now, like you had there and then?”

“God, Satan, yes Angel.” Crowley clings to Aziraphale’s coat, murmuring against the angel’s neck. “Is this some weird offset of the afterlife?”

“You guys ok?” Aziraphale and Crowley startle. Pulling apart they’re greeted by two teens. One tall, lanky with shorter hair, fair skin and freckles, the other slightly shorter with long, dark hair and a healthy tan. The lanky one is the talker. “I mean, didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but there are some theories that say when you die, you just enter a whole ‘nother universe where you’re you but different.”

“There are no theories that say that.” The long-haired boy rolls his eyes and Aziraphale remembers them.

“Are too, saw it on Youtube.”

“Harry and Greg.” Aziraphale and Crowley blurt at the same time.

“You know us?” Harry tilts his head and Aziraphale finds it so odd that the child is not only a child again but still speaking with an American accent.

“Where is your mom?” Crowley looks out amongst the crowds.

“There darling.” Aziraphale spots them before Crowley does and points to where they sit, a large sketchbook in hand.

The angel and demon are blocked from approaching by both teens, working together as a shield.

“You friends of our dad?” Greg glares and Aziraphale remembers how Sal had saved him, in whatever that dream world had been.

“You move here to hide from him?” Crowley asks as Aziraphale pushes a small blessing to the children to calm their fears and earn their trust. “Because we can help.”

“That’d be nice, cause we’re running out of money.” Harry states and then blinks like he isn’t sure why he told them that. “Mom needs a job.”

“I need help at my bookshop and there is a flat above that should have room enough for the three of you.” Aziraphale steps around them. Taking Crowley’s hand, he leads the way towards Sal.

“Where you gonna live, Angel?” Crowley whispers in his ear and Aziraphale can’t help but smile at how his voice slips into a long-forgotten drawl.

“I think it’s about time I move back in with my husband.” He searches the demon’s face, hoping he isn’t overstepping. “Do you?”

“Yes, Dove, I do.” Crowley lifts Aziraphale’s hand to his lips and places a quick peck to his knuckles.

Sal looks up from their drawing at Aziraphale and Crowley’s approach. Laying the sketchbook on their lap, they tilt their head questioningly.

“You need help?” Aziraphale repeats the words he had dreamt they had said to him, just the night before.

“I’m not sure.” They flick a nervous glance toward their children, then to the papers in their lap.

“I felt like like God wanted me to talk to you, but maybe I’m wrong.” Aziraphale continues. _Do you remember this? When you said these exact words to me?_ “I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

“Wait.” They stand, handing their sketchbook to Greg. “Sal Jennings.”

“Aziraphale Crowley”

“Like the angel?” Sal Smiles.

“Just the same.” Aziraphale offers his hand to shake and Sal takes it. Glancing sideways to his demon he waits to gauge Crowley’s reaction. “This is my husband, Anthony.”

“What were you drawing?” Crowley asks, smiling and squeezing Aziraphale’s hand.

“Strangely enough, the both of you.” Sal shakes their head and breathes out a laugh. “Saw ya both walking and had a mental image of the two of you standing by the pond in my grandma and grandpa’s backyard.”

“Your children said you are in need of a job and I have one as well as a flat to offer. Maybe your first month's rent on the flat could be paid in said portrait.” Aziraphale asks sweetly, pointing at the sketchbook as he and his demon walk the small family to the Bentley.

“Don’t think so.” Sal purses their lips. “I draw to relax, I ain’t any good at it.”

“I think you should let me be the judge of that.” Aziraphale reassures them and leans into Crowley’s side, feeling more at right with the world than he has in 8000 years.

* * *

In one of many pocket universes, on the bustling streets of Soho, there now live a family of former Americans who run an old bookshop. The owner and proprietor makes frequent visits, at least twice a week and makes sure the family is well provided for.

In the same universe, in a cottage in the South Downs, live an angel and a demon, who have become the de facto family of above mentioned Americans as well as the very active godparents of a Warlock Dowling and Adam Young.

Aziraphale and Crowley both continue to keep a watchful eye out for the rest of their family to surface. All their old friends had been found during Armageddon, but so far none of the other cousins have surfaced.

Until then, they enjoy an eternity of remembered married bliss and the little bit of family they have again found. And above the mantle, on proud display in their living room, is a portrait, poorly drawn, but means more to them, than anything expensive found inside a fancy art show or museum.

**Author's Note:**

> Sal's drawing


End file.
